


Protector

by SmileAndASong



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Secret Wars Battleworlds
Genre: 1872, Alcoholic Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - Western, Comfort/Angst, Country & Western, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Tony-centric, marvel 1872 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 04:45:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6890725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmileAndASong/pseuds/SmileAndASong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark wakes up in the sheriff's jail cell and has absolutely no idea why he's there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protector

Waking up in a jail cell was not exactly how Tony Stark had planned to start his day.

Then again, most of the ways that Tony Stark planned to start his day never truly manifested. Most of the time they would end up with a bottle in hand paired with some obnoxious singing. Usually, the sheriff would come and warn him and tell him to stop drinking. But he never really did anything about it, and he certainly didn’t put him in jail.

That is, until today.

It took Tony a moment to piece together where he was. He examined his surroundings before he was able to identify it as the jail cell of the sheriff’s office. He turned to the pair of eyes that were focused on him from the opposite side of the room. There sat Sheriff Rogers at his desk, clearly having been staring at him for some time now and waiting for him to wake up. Most people would probably be disturbed by the thought of being watched for an undetermined amount of time. Tony’s ego and perpetually jolly drunken state found joy from the idea of the handsome sheriff watching over him for an undetermined amount of time. The jail cell though, he was going to have to get to the bottom of that. Tony reached forward to grip onto the bars of the small cell to hoist himself up. He was more hungover than he was drunk right now, but his posture was still awful. He shoved some of his messy hair out of his eyes as he looked over at Steve with a smirk on his face.

“You know, if you wanted me all to yerself, we coulda done this without the cell, Sheriff.” Tony said back smugly. The one benefit of not being completely piss drunk all of the time - he was much more coherent with his words. Rogers rolled his eyes and didn’t say anything, looking back at some piece of paper on his desk that probably wasn’t that important. Tony did not take well to this being ignored. He leaned forward against the bars and pressed his face against them.

“So, is it bad that I have absolutely no idea why I’m here?” Tony asked the other. “I’m no crook, sheriff. My family helped build this town years ago, Starks have been here for decades now. Why would I betray my precious ol’ Timely? /How/ could I betray my own Timely?”

“Public indecency, Stark.” Steve explained as he pulled his gun from the holster and pretended to work on his aim at a target bullseye that was on the other side of the room.

“Now there’s a fancy word for you, sheriff. Didn’t think you could pull all that together.” Tony said with a smirk. “How exactly was I being ‘publicly indecent’, sheriff?”

“At noon I found you passed out in fronta the saloon. You were singin’ when people kept telling you to hush, and Danvers was sayin’ that you kept trying to pull your pants down every time the feminists walked by to protest.” Well. That all sounded pretty plausible, Tony had to admit it. But that didn’t sound exceptionally different from what he did on the daily. The mooning the feminists might have been a bit out of the norm for him, but was that really enough to warrant his arrest by the sheriff.

“I do all of that everyday, sheriff. Since when is any of that public indecency?” Tony asked as he slumped down to his knees, though still pressed his face against the bars.

“It’s /always/ been in the town law, Stark. Past sheriffs have just let you off the hook ‘cause your Daddy helped build this town. I was giving in to that for awhile, but it ain’t right to give some rich man special treatment when he’s disturbing the town. So you’re gonna be in the cell until tomorrow, a full twenty-four hours.” Steve decided as he propped his feet up on the desk. Tony frowned, not seeming too impressed with it. But it seemed like Steve was pretty set in his ways. He was quiet for a moment.

“Do you accept bribes? I could pay you a bribe or pay my own bail?” Tony tried.

“With what? It’s no secret around these here parts that you’ve run out of most of that inheritance money from your Daddy, Stark.” Ouch. True, yes. But Tony thought he had been fooling most people into believing that he was pretty rich still. The only way that he had any money coming in still was with the train station. His father had built the first major train station and rail tracks in Timely, so the profits from the ticket sales still came back to him. A portion, because he had relinquished control of it since he didn’t wanna waste time with something stupid like train tickets and all of that nonsense. But that was years ago and now there were other train stations around, so the monopoly was more or less gone, so the money therefore was less. Certainly not enough to cover the amount of booze that he needed to get through the daily. And with all of his invention attempts and the money needed to fund those as well. There was no choice but to dip into those family savings. But those weren’t going to last forever, and forever was coming to a close a lot sooner than Tony wanted to admit.

Tony’s life was a mess and he knew it. It was his fault entirely for letting it get this way though. He could have been great like his father, he could have built something amazing that helped people. He tried, he tried all the time. His house was littered with various sketches and blueprints of new technologies that he wanted to build to help people: machines that washed dishes on their own, ovens that cooked food faster, entire plans for factories that could mass produce goods and waste less energy. He had all of these great plans, and sometimes he even attempted to build them. But when they failed, that’s when he got frustrated. That’s when he gave up and turned to the booze. That’s when he sunk to his lowest low, and that’s when he really started to hate himself. Tony constantly told himself that he was alright and would be able to pull out of it. But deep down, he had stopped believing in himself and gave up hope that things were ever going to turn around. The booze made it easier and made it lighter. Took away those heavy-handed thoughts.

“Why do you need it so badly?” Steve asked him seemingly out of nowhere.

“Need what so badly?” Tony asked. He was playing oblivious, but he had a pretty good idea of what Steve was talking about. He just didn’t like to admit his demons to anyone and liked to pretend that people were blissfully ignorant to said demons.

“Come on Stark - the whiskey. I reckon you spend hundreds of dollars on that whiskey with the amount that you drink.” Steve began. Tony didn’t want to admit how accurate Steve’s assumption on him was. “And I’ve seen some of the contraptions you built - the ones that work anyway. Your fortune teller contraption may be a scam, but it is impressive. No one in this town can build like you can. You’re easily the smartest man in town.”

“Well, tell me something I don’t already know.” Tony said, feigning confidence as always.

“And you’re also the biggest fool in town.” Steve said bluntly. Ouch.

“Thanks.” Tony said with a scoff and an eyeroll.

“Only a fool would waste potential and money on something as stupid and pointless as whiskey. You’re better than this, Stark. You’ve been playing the fool in town, start playing the smartest man in town for once.” Steve said as he stood up and rose to his feet. “You know, you might thank me for putting you in this cell someday.”

“Doubtful.” Tony scoffed as he walked across the cell to lay in the cot that was pressed against the wall. Steve was about to speak, but then there was a gun shot outside.

“Damn Roxxon…” He said as he grabbed his gun from the desk. He was about to run out, but then he clearly hesitated. He dropped a piece of paper and a pencil through the opening of the bars in the cell, and then ran off without a word.

 

 

It was a good three hours before Steve returned. In that time, Tony didn’t make an effort to touch the paper and pencil in the cell. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew why the other was doing this. He was trying to get him to sketch something out, an invention. Get him to think. Tony didn’t need the sheriff looking out for him or taking pity on him though. He didn’t take kindly to being called a fool. He knew people thought of him as a drunken fool but usually he didn’t pay mind to this because he was drunk and would either forget those comments, or be able to brush it off more easily. But being sober and trapped in the cell, they stuck with him more. He was not the biggest fool in town. He was a genius, he was easily the smartest man in town. And if he wanted to think of an invention, he easily could on his own - because he wanted to, not because he wanted to prove to the damn sheriff that he was more than capable. Tony was perpetually stubborn and would purposefully go out of his way to not do something if he knew that someone else wanted him to do it. 

So he spent the past few hours just laying on the cot and staring at the ceiling. It was pretty boring, if he was being honest. And it was tempting to grab that pencil and draw just to have something to do. But no, he would not under these conditions. So if that meant just staring at the blank wall for hours, then so be it.

Steve returned at dusk with a bowl of soup in his hands. He grabbed the keys from the desk and unlocked Tony’s cell so as to give him the food. Tony noticed that Steve’s expression seemed frustrated when he saw the pencil and paper untouched in the cell. That made him smirk lightly, but for some reason he did feel slightly disappointed in himself. Why did he care if the sheriff was upset with him? It didn’t matter.

“Brought you your supper.” Steve handed him a bowl of bland looking soup, which he took because he only just realized how hungry he was.

“Thanks.” Tony said as he took the bowl and began to slurp it up. It tasted as bland as it looked, but something was better than nothing. Tony watched as Steve didn’t leave the cell immediately. He sort of just stood there and watched him. Again, the gaze was not unwanted from the handsome sheriff, but this one felt more unnerving than the one when Tony first woke up. Probably because there was a lot more knowledge about the other’s sentiment for keeping him in the cell and Tony had an idea of what the other thought of his character overall. Knowledge of emotions always changed things with Tony, usually making his emotionally distant nature feel tense.

“Didn’t have any ideas while I was gone, huh?” Steve asked the other as he picked up the blank paper and put it on the cot beside the other. Tony eyed the paper, then looked back up at Steve.

“Nope, guess not.” That was a lie, Tony actually had several ideas. It was amazing what he could think of when he wasn’t piss drunk and singing sea shanties. That’s not to say that the craving for the alcohol was all but gone though, because he was craving whiskey like it was nobody’s business. Sure, the intellect was great but having to deal with the weight of these heavy emotions was too much.

“Well, it’s there if you change your mind. Thought you might like something to do while you’re stuck in the cell.” Steve explained as he turned to walk out of the cell. He shut the door and locked it behind him.

“Do you really have to lock it?” Tony asked bluntly. “It’s not like I’m going to go anywhere if you’re here to stop me.”

“You’re a prisoner tonight, Tony. You need to be treated just like one. I don’t usually give anyone paper and a pencil, so you should consider yourself lucky. Most folks just sit and rot in the cell, bored out of their skull.” Steve said as he as turned to sit back at their desk.

“I suppose I should be thanking you then?” Tony asked the other as he put down the bowl of soup.

“Well maybe you should be. Because I reckon if it wasn’t for me putting your drunken self in jail, you’d be passed out and vomiting in front of the saloon right now, making a damn fool of yourself!” Steve said as he raised his voice slightly, clearly getting frustrated.

“If I wanna get drunk and vomit outside of the saloon that’s my business. Nobody wants to be in a jail cell. You’re not a hero, you’re justa sheriff! Stop makin’ yourself so important!” Tony argued back.

“I’m not /saying/ I’m a hero. I’m just doing my job. Part of that job involves protecting the people that I care about.” Steve said, his tone somewhat less antagonistic as there was clear sincerity in his tone. Tony froze, looking uncharacteristically dumbfounded and confused at those words. Care about him? Since when did the pain in the ass sheriff actually care about him?

“You...care about me?” Tony asked the other bluntly, because why not be blunt at this point.

“Of course. I care about everyone in Timely. I’m the sheriff, it’s my job to protect everyone. Sometimes that doesn’t only mean from other people or bandits, sometimes that means from themselves.” Steve explained as he looked at Tony. “I know it’s hard for you to wrap your head around someone givin’ a damn about you, Stark. Most people think you’re just the drunkard fool. I know you’re more than that and I wanna see you be more than that. Like I said before stop playing the fool, play the genius.”

“But...you care? About me?” Tony said because he never would have imagined that the reason he was put in this cell by the sheriff was because he /cared/ about him. Tony was so far gone in thinking that most people in this town hated him because of his obnoxious drunk nature, or begrudgingly respected him because of who his father was and the fact that they thought he was rich. Honest sincerity was completely foreign to Tony.

“Of course I do. You think I would walk your drunk ass home from saloons after midnight and not care?” Steve said with a small smile. “Maybe you’re a bit of a fool when you’re sober too.” Steve lightly joked. Tony mirrored the smile back for a moment, before he fell quiet and looked at his surroundings. The bowl of food. The paper and pencil. The being locked in the cell sober. In a strange way, these were all small signs of Steve showing care for him. 

“Well...that’s mighty kind of you.” Tony mumbled. He wanted to thank the other, but those words just couldn’t come out for some reason.

“Like I said Tony, it’s my job to protect everyone in this city. A good sheriff is the protector of his people because he cares.” Protection. The word stuck with Tony for some reason. Steve was protecting him. Not from any forces or threats, but from himself and his own demons by keeping him here. Tony was not used to depending on others. He was barely able to depend on himself. But it felt nice to know of the link that he had with Steve now. The protection and the care. He didn’t think he deserved them, at least not now. He had to prove to the other that he did.  
“I need to go and do a night patrol of the town.” Steve said as he stood up and loaded his gun. “And remember, just because I do care about you, don’t mean you’re gettin’ out of sleeping in this cell.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less, sheriff.” Tony explained as he moved to lay down on his cot.

“I’ll see you in the morning then, Tony. Have a good night.” Steve gave the other one more smile as well as a two finger wave before he walked out of the sheriff’s office. He shut and locked the door behind him. The moment Tony heard the lock click, he sat up and grabbed a hold of the paper and pencil that had been left to him several hours. The moment the pencil touched the paper, the thoughts and ideas came pouring in. Tony hadn’t felt this in sometime, this motivation and drive. All of these ideas. The entire time that he worked, he became so engrossed in it. The temptation of whiskey or any alcohol did not even cross his mind.

 

“Rise and shine, Stark. You’re free to go.”

Tony’s eyes opened slowly as he heard the familiar voice beckoning him awake. He turned over to see Steve standing in the cell with a small smile on his face.

“Twenty-four hours up already?” Tony asked as he sat up and stretched.

“Close - it’s been about twenty, but I decided to let you go early for good behavior.” Steve said as he extended the cell door open to let Tony out. “On one condition - if I see you walkin’ to the saloon, I’m dragging you right back in here for the four hours you owe me.”

“Deal. There are some things I need to do at home, actually.” Tony said as he followed the other out of the cell. “Well sheriff, it’s been quite the night but I’m just about ready to get the hell out of here.”

“Can’t say I blame you. Remember, I’m keepin’ a close eye on you. Don’t try and play the fool on my guard.” Steve said sternly as he crossed his arms.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Tony began, nearly out the door, before he turned around and looked back at the other. “Oh, before I forget. Look under my cot.” Tony didn’t wait for Steve’s reaction before he turned to leave. He did stand outside the sheriff’s office though, right near the one window that was in the cell he had been in. He watched as Steve crouched down under the bed to find the carefully placed piece of paper.

On that paper was a blueprint for something very unique. It was the first full blueprint that Tony designed in months and perhaps it was a bit fantastical and implausible, but he wanted it to be his next invention. He was going to make it happen if it killed him. The sketch was labeled ‘The Iron Man’ at the top. It was a detailed drawing of what seemed to resemble a large medieval suit of armour, though appeared to have an energy power source. There was a small note attached to the bottom of the sketch for Steve as well:

 _‘Thanks for looking out for me Sheriff when no one did. You really do a damn fine job as the protector of this town - protectin’ us not only from bandits and threats, but sometimes an even more dangerous threat: ourselves_  
_When a time comes and there’s a threat so bad that even you need protecting, Iron Man and I will be there, I promise. Even the sheriff could us a protector too._  
_Thanks for giving me the push I needed._  
_\- TS’_

Tony watched as a small smile curved onto the other’s lips as he looked at the blueprint. It made Tony smile as well, but he didn’t waste much time before he hurried home to begin work. Tony now had several things that he had long since lost or given up: motivation to create, a desire to move away from his drinking (slowly but surely, he knew himself), the knowledge that someone who was protecting him and caring for him, and the desire to reciprocate the care and protection back. And the only way to make this happen was to act.

Who would have guessed that a night in a jail cell would be just the motivation that Tony Stark needed?

**Author's Note:**

> I diverged from the comics a bit with Tony giving up alcohol and inventing again because of Steve's motivation versus Steve dying.  
> I also apologize for inconsistent western accents, I'm from NY so it's literally the exact opposite of my accent.


End file.
